World's Smallest Harbor

Hey, have you been to the World's Smallest Harbor?

They have a giant sign in the shape of a humpback whale, in thick yellow letters advertising "DEPOE BAY, OREGON WORLD'S SMALLEST HARBOR" for those who didn't already know.

They make a mean crab in Depoe Bay.

Across the street from the hut-shaped information booth, regarding of course the tiny body of water housing six or so boats, otherwise known as the World's Smallest Harbor, is a diner that serves good crab soup.

The waitresses are cute, make sure to forget things constantly.

Hey, were you down by the water at the World's Smallest Harbor?

I thought I saw you there, noting the 1 acre-wide pocket of the sea, trying to figure out if truly was, as everyone said it was, the World's Smallest Harbor.

Why must you dominate the sea? Know the unknown and question things?

I'm sick, sick of fake intellectual tourists clamming up this place all the time, their pockets bulging with blueprints and tangled rolls of measuring tape.

It's enough to make someone plunge headfirst into the World's Smallest Harbor, which— as I understand it— is still relatively deep.

When the water snapped beneath my tumbling weight, I felt the sting of the pissed off Pacific Ocean on my ears, thighs and hands, all being resuscitated as if from emergency paramedics, wheeling around the corner just in the nick of time.

I fell as if falling from a dream, clutching my chest and wishing I would have stayed in bed, until I hit the powdery bottom, which, as I had calculated, was pretty damn deep indeed.
And suddenly I felt so very small, left to write by candlelight on the floor of the World's Smallest Harbor, while the tourists walk over the rickety white bridge, staring at their reflections in the murky waves, unable to see myself, so far below, waving up at them as if I were royalty.